


A Trip For Biscuits

by izzsa



Category: Bandom, Cobra Starship, Fall Out Boy, My Chemical Romance, One Direction (Band), Panic! at the Disco, The Academy Is...
Genre: Alternate Universe - 1930s, Alternate Universe - Gangsters, Alternate Universe - Prohibition Era, Brendon just tries to get by, Character Death, Drug Use, Illegal Activities, Louis is an angry but nervous chihuahua, M/M, Ryan doesn't sleep, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-05-13
Updated: 2014-01-09
Packaged: 2017-12-11 19:06:55
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,035
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/802142
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/izzsa/pseuds/izzsa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Brendon and Ryan are two members of one of Chicago's most notorious gangs; two partners-in-crime (with a little extra on the side) who always get the job done. But as Ryan spirals deeper into depression and drug addiction over time, Brendon worries Ryan may be becoming too unstable to be trusted with a gun. And when Bill goes missing one day out of the blue, Brendon thinks things couldn't possibly get any worse for him. It takes a spoiled rich kid, a trip to New Jersey, and a three-year-old girl to make Brendon realize what really matters. But could it be too late?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> This is 30s gangsters fic for a friend's birthday that turned into more chapters than expected! I've been having fun writing this and decided it was time to at least post the first (albeit short) chapter/prologue/thing.
> 
> I will apologize ahead of time for any historical inaccuracies, second-hand embarassment and the painful use of old-timey phrases.
> 
> Do my summaries sound like cheesy tv-show summaries? cuz that's totally what i was going for.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> this chapter is mostly to create a setting and keep myself sane. it sucks a lot, but hopefully less than the chapters following it

Year 1921, Chicago, Illinois; friends Pete Wentz and Patrick Stump needed a break. Stump had lost his wife and young daughter in a fire in his home, and Wentz was hardly more than a bum, with no family nor any will to live. Stump had a low-paying job in a factory. Wentz hadn’t been able to hold down a job since adolescence. They lived in a homeless shelter a few blocks from Stump’s work, but it definitely wasn’t enough.

Walking the streets in silent company one day, Stump had piped up and suggested jokingly that they rob the bank on the corner - if only to get themselves a place by the time the weather grew cold again. While Stump laughed off the ridiculous notion, Wentz had actually considered the idea, and concocted a plan.

Buying a couple guns with what money they had, and fashioning two masks out of some spare fabric from old clothes, Wentz brought the idea back to his friend who had refused at first. After some more convincing, telling Stump that there was quite honestly nothing to lose, the two perfected the plans for their first ever bank robbery.

Their first raid was a success, and over the course of a few months, the two had not only acquired a comfortable new home, but a warrant for their arrest – though no one actually knew who it was that made up the infamous duo that was hitting banks all over the state of Illinois.

At some point in their career, the two picked up a guy named Hurley – Andrew Hurley – becoming a trio.  
Hurley had come to them one day with crates of obviously illegal alcohol. He told them how other guys had made a boatload on distributing alcohol in illegal bars. He had then introduced them to the provider he’d met, Joe Trohman, a cool guy and a resident of Canada. Stump had hesitated, as per usual, finding the deal too similar to the drug trade and too serious and risky. Wentz, however, decided that this plan was more steady than that of robbing random banks that would probably up their security over time, making their current job more difficult. He convinced Stump once more to join him in the quest for riches.

The Fall Out Boys soon became one of the largest, most successful Chicago gangs in the business of distributing alcohol during prohibition.

Stump died in 1925 in a police raid of one of their illegal saloons.

Wentz and Hurley continued the operation with Trohman and other distributors.


	2. Let's Skedaddle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Okie-dokie, let's get on with the real story.
> 
> Brendon is a couple years older than Ryan here because of reasons.
> 
> I'm literally the worst at titling chapters.

The room was dark and I could hardly see a thing, but when I heard the airy puff of an inhaler being used a little ways to my left and I knew what was going on.

I heard Ryan suck in a breath and I could picture him curling his fingers tightly around the arm of the chair he was sitting in as he felt the amphetamines rush through him. I shook my head to myself only because I knew Ryan couldn’t see me in the pitch black room. Seemed like almost every ten minutes…

“Let’s scram,” Ryan murmured after a short silence. I couldn’t agree more and got up almost immediately, the slip-cover of the couch I had been sitting on squeaking obnoxiously. I tried to flatten out my trousers the best I could without sufficient vision, but it was kind of pointless. Ryan flicked on the table lamp which helped, but then I suddenly remembered why they’d had the lights off. I averted my eyes from the bloody corpse of a Mr. Brent Wilson who’d mistakenly had one too many debts to the Boss. Six years in the business and I still couldn’t be bothered to look at my own messes. You could say I was more the hit-and-run kind of fellow.

Ryan, however, quietly lit up a snipe, looking boredly on the old stiff like a museum piece of sorts.  Seemed like just last week, though, that the kid had nearly vomited at the sight of his first hit. They really grow up fast, especially in this line of work. Ryan was only 20 years old, but the tiredness in his face would make you think otherwise. He was still quite the pip, though, with his soulful eyes and the kind of voice that kept you listening, no matter what booshwash he was spewing.

“Gonna stare all day, Urie, or are we gonna skedaddle?”

Ryan’s words startled me out of my thoughts and I realized that I actually had been staring. Ryan had mercy, though, (or maybe he just didn’t care enough) and didn’t laugh at my startled reaction. Instead, he seemed to simply brush it off and pointedly stepped over the lifeless body of Mr. Wilson to get to the door. I tiptoed around the pools of blood soaking into the ugly brown rug and followed him out.

Even though I was older and had been a Fall Out Boy for longer, Ryan appeared to have taken up the superior role over the last couple years. Geez, had it really been almost two years since we’d picked up the young scrub from the streets?

Ryan had become an orphan at seventeen when his dad had kicked the bucket. The Boss decided to take him in, but only because his pop had been a loyal customer of his. Maybe that was why Ryan thought he had to prove himself all the time, had to be better at everything. I shrugged off the thought as we tread down four flights of stairs and exited the apartment building that used to be home to Mr. Wilson, but now just his soon-to-be-horrified neighbors.

That wouldn’t be ‘til probably another few hours or so, though, I assured myself, looking up at the twilight sky – or what _could_ be seen of it through the smog and city lights. But it’d still be best to shake a leg and get out before any coppers would be able to sniff out their trail. I pulled down my fedora to cover my eyes slightly and followed Ryan to the car where Adam was waiting like we’d told him to, keeping a lookout for cops while they did the job. He was a new recruit – diligent and hardworking but still new. Maybe a little too enthusiastic.

“Hey, boys, that sure was quick! Bet ol’ Wilson didn’t see it comin’,” Adam said in a loud whisper as he started up the car and Ryan and I slid into the backseat.

“Don’t blow your wig, Siska,” Ryan grumbled, always real cranky on a high, “just drive.” I rolled my eyes at his sass and as usual, Ryan noticed. The dark look he shot me was emphasized by his dark circles from days without sleep. I could almost hear Ryan’s heartbeat thrumming from where he was sitting next to me. Adam tsked but did as he was told, speeding off down the deserted street.

“But really, now,” Adam began after a moment. The kid couldn’t stay silent for long, “did you get the Boss’ due? Didn’t see you coming out with much.”

“Trip for biscuits, if anything.” I shrugged, settling back into the leather seat. Wilson had been there, alright, and we’d finished with him in no time. His little shack of a place, though, had been completely bare; we hadn’t been able to find even a nice watch on him, let alone a safe of whatever he owed the Boss.

Adam made a small _huh_ noise and didn’t say anything else the entire way to my home on East Bowen, which was well past a stone’s throw from Mr. Wilson’s place. Ryan stared out the window in deep thought while I idly twiddled my thumbs and flattened out the wrinkles in my pants some more.

When the car finally rumbled to a halt by the sidewalk in front of my apartment, Adam cleared his throat in a way of announcing ‘we’re here’. I was startled from my near-slumber and quickly turned to Ryan to make sure he was up. The young man in the other seat huffed out a sigh – whether of relief or annoyance, I couldn’t be sure – and pushed open the door on his side. I got out as well, with a small “goodnight” to Adam – although, I thought as I scurried to catch up to Ryan who had already reached the door and was impatiently holding it open, the sun would be rising sooner than a few hours.

I shuffled past and headed up the stairs with Ryan right on my heels. I groaned and rubbed at my eyes, nearly tripping on the stairs in my haste and lightheadedness. I really needed some shut-eye at this point, though with Ryan hanging around like he seemed to have decided to do, I was sure there would be very little sleep-getting for me tonight.

I unlocked the door and held it open for Ryan as I stepped inside. I removed my blazer and my hat, and kicked off my shoes as I loosened my tie. I looked over at Ryan who closed the door behind him and didn’t do much else as he stood there, just observing me. He never made himself at home no matter how many times he’d been here and I’d asked him to do so. I had a feeling the boy was unable to relax no matter where he was.

I rolled up my sleeves and placed my hands firmly on each hip, looking at Ryan sternly in his dark-rimmed eyes. He smiled and stalked towards me slowly. My face remained stony as he lifted a hand to lightly stroke my jaw with the pad of his thumb. He exhaled. The scent of cigarettes and not much else ghosted over my cheek and I scrunched my nose up like a child. This made him laugh, though not in the way he did before he ever met me. Sharp, slightly yellow teeth were revealed behind rosy red lips and his face was very close to my own. I leaned in on my own accord, if only out of impatience, and our lips met. It tasted bitter, like Ryan himself, but his lips were soft and his chin scratched mine – pleasant in a way I was sure I’d never understand.

Ryan sighed into the kiss, very nearly allowing himself to relax a bit like I always wanted him to. Nearly, though. His arms felt rigid, the muscles tight when I lifted my hands to hold them. He pushed his lips harder into mine, suddenly, shoving my head back and forcing a surprised noise out of me. He enjoyed doing that, catching me off guard. Or maybe it was the sound he found amusing. Either way, I still fell for it each time.

Out of nowhere, however, a sensation came over me and I had to pull away from Ryan, now baring his teeth into my lower lip. He knew it hurt and that’s why he did it, but that wasn’t why I was now pushing him away. There was a tickle in my nose and I angled my face away as slowly, loudly, I yawned, very nearly feeling the life drain out of me from the effort of it. Ryan chuckled and I frowned as he patted my cheek.

“You should get off to bed, then,” he said.

“Mmm,” I mumbled, finishing off my yawn. I smacked my lips, “maybe you should too.” My voice wasn't lacking a certain suggestiveness, but Ryan chose to ignore it either way. He moved his hands to curl his fingers in the loos bits of my shirt by my waist. I looked up again to see him staring back into my eyes with an intensity I knew but still feared.

“I should,” he whispered.

 _But I won’t,_ his eyes told me.

I yawned again, shorter this time, and turned away to head towards my bedroom and left Ryan to his insomniac lifestyle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry, Brent
> 
> also: writing kissing is still awkward as hell
> 
> I suck, bye


	3. He Owns The Bank

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ryan doesn't sleep, Brendon has a visitor and a message from Pete.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I could research how these gangs actually worked, or I can just keep throwing band members into the story and imagine them in dapper outfits

Despite my best efforts, I couldn’t get to sleep with Ryan muttering to himself like he was.

“Ryan,” I groaned, “get some shut-eye. What’s got you so riled up, anyhow?” I could hear as Ryan paced up and down my living room, loudly thumping in his shoes he still hadn’t taken off. Boy didn’t know how to relax.

“But where’d he put all that cash?” Ryan murmured to himself for the twentieth time. He was still hung up on Mr. Wilson’s magic act.

“Bank somewhere?” I suggested lethargically, rolling over into my stomach and burying my face into the pillow.

“No way,” Ryan said. I heard his footsteps approach my bedroom and stop at the door, “no bank would ever let him…” he trailed off, thinking some more. I rolled over again to look at his silhouette in the doorway, leaning on the frame and looking at the floor.

“Yeah,” I mused, “not unless he owned the bank or something.”

Ryan’s eyebrows shot up two inches and we just looked right at each other for a minute. It looked like Ryan was about to crack a smile when he turned around to head back into my living room.

“Where’s your telephone?” he asked.

I rubbed one tired eye. “It’s by the—”

“Found it.”

“Alright,” I grumbled and curled back up in the blankets. A few minutes later, I heard Ryan's voice again.

"Jon? It's Ryan. I need you to to do some digging for me."

I fell asleep around 1 am to the sound of Ryan’s murmuring into the phone.

~*~

The next morning, I woke up groggy and bed-headed to the sound of a pounding on my door. I groaned and rolled lazily out of the bed and quickly checked to make sure I was dressed halfway decently. I threw on my white button-up from the previous day and tucked it into my trousers before heading out of my bedroom. I padded through the living room and vaguely noted that, other than the wrinkles in the couch cushion, there was no sign of Ryan who must have left well into the hours of twilight. I picked up the pen and legal pad discarded on the coffee table and tucked them away into a drawer in my desk before going to the door.

I looked through the peephole and rolled my eyes at first when I saw nothing. Pranksters probably, I thought, or maybe someone who’d realized too late they had the wrong apartment number. But then I heard another knock, and the top of a brown head of hair caught my eye at the bottom of my vision.

“Yeah?” I called out to the stranger.

“Are you…I’m looking for a Mr. Urie?” I heard a small voice say in an accent that definitely wasn’t American. The boy outside my door got on his toes, evidently, and peeked back through my peephole and I got a look at his angular, tan face. He looked harmless, but then again, so did Ryan at first glance.

“Who’s asking?”

“Pete sent me, sir. Please. I really need to be—”

At that, I chose to undo the chain and lock on the door to let the boy in. I figured if he was lying, I could handle him. And if not, he seemed inexperienced, and I didn’t need him standing out in the hallway spouting off the whole grocery list Pete had given him.

“Alright, yes, come in,” I said hurriedly as I swung the door open. The boy stopped mid-sentence and looked at me with these wide blue eyes before shoving a folded up piece of paper in my face. I quirked a curious eyebrow at him.

“Message from the boss,” the boy stuttered in a voice that fluttered in my ears like a pleasant canary. It sounded a little scratchy, probably from sleepiness or maybe puberty. He couldn’t have been any older than 16, and he reminded me of myself when I’d first gotten caught up with Pete’s boys. I invited him inside again, which he declined at first, but after a bit of insisting, the boy smiled bashfully and nodded as he walked past me and into my apartment.

I was kind of thankful that Ryan had left already. I didn’t need him intimidating this boy more than I probably already did. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d had some decent company that hadn’t been scared away by my partner who wasn’t quite so fond of company as I.

I led him to the kitchen and motioned for him to sit down as I took the little paper from his small, tan hand. He sat down gingerly as if the chair would break, then shifted around to get himself comfortable. I sighed quietly to myself as I walked past him towards my small kitchenette.

“Thirsty?” I asked him, grabbing myself a beer from the fridge. I looked over my shoulder at the boy who did something that looked like a shrug and a nod. I closed the fridge and went over to the cabinet to get a glass. I vaguely checked it for cleanliness before filling it up in the sink and setting it down in front of him and taking a seat in the other kitchen chair. The boy seemed to hesitate a bit before raising the glass to his lips. I gave him a small questioning glance before looking at Pete’s message.

_Hey, Brendon. I hope this reached you well enough. Louis is a little edgy. I honestly wouldn’t put it past him to give himself a heart attack walking alone for ten blocks. He’s the nephew of a friend of mine who needed some babysitting. Having him run some errands for me to earn his keep._

_Anyway, I wanted to let you know that my sister – the one who lives in Canada – is coming for a visit this Friday. She’s coming in her boat across the lake around 1. I need you to pick her up for me because I’ll be at a meeting._

_Best regards,_

_Pete_

_P.S. Take Ryan with you. You know how Stella’s always anxious – Ryan’s good at relaxing her._

I’d read Pete’s stupid encrypted messages before. I personally thought it was ridiculous – if you were careful, who was gonna get a hold of your messages, anyway? But Pete was insane, and I could decode his letters well enough, so I dealt. It was one of his weaker stories, but there really wasn’t a high probability of the note getting lost, especially not in the clearly capable hands of this young’un. The message basically said the following: this so-called Louis kid was a new recruit who was doing odd jobs for him to earn his way in – I glanced over the piece of paper to size up the boy for probably the billionth time. I couldn’t wrap my head around the fact Pete could have hired someone so obviously young. Louis flinched under my gaze and I decided to give him a break and looked back at the letter. The rest of the message was Pete saying in the most coded way possible that there was a shipment coming in at 1AM Friday night (technically Saturday), and he wanted Ryan and I to get it, with a heads-up that it was one of our more argumentative suppliers, so emphasis on the _bring Ryan_.

I looked up from the note, crumpling it up in my hand and tossing it carelessly on the table. Louis blinked at me, licking the water from his this thin lips and slamming his glass back to the table too quickly, as if he’d been caught doing something wrong. I smiled at his innocent youth.

“So, Lewis, is it?”

“Louis,” he corrected almost instantly. He didn’t look me in the eye, tracing the rim of his glass with a small stubby finger.

“Louis,” I amended, nodding slowly. “How old are you?”

“Fifteen.” He appeared to be very concentrated on rubbing off a speck from his glass that was invisible to me.

I tried not to let my shock show on my face. Jesus Christ, fourteen? This boy should barely be in high school. I wanted to know his story, why he’d chosen this life so early. He was dressed too nicely for a runaway or someone whose family was on the streets. His shoes were shined and his hair was neat. Where had Pete picked this kid up?

“Don’t piss yourself, boy,” I warned him when I noticed the way he was fidgeting in his seat and shiftily looking around my apartment, and not to admire the interior decorating as it left much to be desired. I took a small swig of my beer. Louis’ head whipped back around to blush at me, biting his lip. I smiled as warmly as I remembered how to. “Pete’s not a stickler for punctuality, believe me.” He didn’t visibly seem to relax any more, but at least his eyes had finally rested on mine and he’d stopped looking around like a nervous prairie dog.

“Got a last name?” I asked him. I didn’t want to admit it but, despite his Chihuahua-like demeanor, I was enjoying the company of someone who – as far as I knew – hadn’t yet killed a man or watched someone do it. I hoped to drag the conversation on at least until I was due at my day-job in the shoe department at Macy’s (a cover-up, mainly – a source of some legally earned money I could put on my taxes. And don’t tell anyone I said this, but I actually sort of enjoyed it).

“Tomlinson,” he mumbled with a small nod.

I relished in his quick answers and obedience – a breath of fresh air after being with Ryan who could back-talk you about breakfast if given the opportunity, and Adam who could babble endlessly about the most useless things like sports and politics. Louis listened quietly and only spoke when spoken to, and I could get used to that. Even if I knew in the back of my mind it was probably only because this kid was probably scared I’d shoot him at any slip of the tongue. For all I knew, this kid was sociable as hell if he was with the right crowd. The look in his eyes told me he had more to say than he actually did, but felt the need to be cautious.

“And what kind of accent is that, anyway? Where you from?”

“I’m from England, sir. Doncaster. In South Yorkshire.”

“Can’t say I know where that is.” I leaned back in my chair, crossing my arms, still dangling the neck of my beer between my pointer finger and thumb. “How’d you meet Pete, then?” I asked him.

“He’s, uh, friends with my uncle who I’m staying with.”

So that part actually had been true. I wasn't buying the 'friends' part, however.

“Rich uncle?” I asked, looking his clean and unrumbled clothes up and down.

Louis looked bothered by my bluntness, but it wasn’t like he could do anything about it. I laughed inwardly at the way his eyes widened and his upper lip twitched with what I assumed was some smart comeback.

“You…could say that.” Louis spoke slowly as if he thought it might be a trick question, which it quite honestly might have been. I nodded, looking his dapper outfit up and down once more. His Adam’s apple bobbed when he swallowed and he was fidgeting again. I thought I should probably let him go soon, but not just yet.

“Did he put you up to this?” I now asked, getting straight to the point. “Does he owe Pete a favor or something? Pretty sick of someone to give up their own nephew’s services to pay off his filthy debts.”

“I wasn’t _put up_ to anything,” Louis hissed, tightening his grip on his glass. I jolted slightly at his anger, but I didn’t lose my composure.

“Then why are you here?” I spoke calmly as I leaned forward over the table to eye him as his cheeks grew rosy. He growled. _Growled._ A bit much, don’t you think? I didn’t laugh at him for fear of angering him more and him leaving without any more explanation.

“My uncle doesn’t know I’m doing this,” Louis said firmly, staring me down. His eyes had been the color of the sea when he’d first shown up at my door, but now the waters had turned stormy. “He doesn’t even know I know Pete.”

“But,” I sighed leaning in further, “ _why_ are you here, is what I asked.”

“I…” Louis crossed his arms, scrunching up his nose, as if contemplating how to word what he was going to say next, “I need money.”

I blinked slowly, then frowned at the boy. “Then get a job at the damn grocery store or delivering the paper! You’re fifteen for God’s sake! The worst mistake you can make is—”

“I’m not gonna make shit doing that,” Louis shot right back, “Pete promised me fast money and that’s what I need.”

“Why can’t Uncle Moneybags just give it to you?” I asked. Louis’ eyes flashed with anger at my quick assumptions, but he didn’t act on it.

“He’s not gonna give it to me if he knows what I…plan to do with it.” The words freely tumbled from his lips until the last part, where he’d obviously just started actually considering what he’s letting slip to someone he’s barely met and can hardly trust. This piqued my interest, and Louis realized it, flinching at his own words as well as the questioning look I gave him. He swallowed again and tapped his anxious fingers on his bicep.

“I want to go travelling,” he tells me quickly, but I sense there’s something more with the way his nails start to dig into the tan skin of his arm, “with, uh, a friend.” He shrugged, but I wasn’t having it. I tapped the side of my bottle and gave him a look. My face was starting to feel sore from all the _looks_ I’d been giving and receiving this morning. Maybe talking to this kid had been a bad idea after all.

Louis finally gave in, though. “He doesn’t like the idea of me travelling in the first place,” he told me, “but it’s the person I want to travel with that’s the main issue.”

“Ah,” I said knowingly, “a girl he doesn’t approve of? Someone who’s not his business partner’s daughter?”

Louis stared at me, blushing again, and I smirked at him, not expecting the next words to come out of his mouth.

“His name’s Harry.”

His voice shook as he spoke with what was trying to be sternness, and the look he gave me after that was something I wish I could forget. There was a silent conversation between just our eyes on each other’s. Louis hadn’t said much – didn’t say anything, really – but the message came across strong enough; that he wasn’t correcting me to say that Harry was just a friend. And there was a chance he might have gotten away with me thinking exactly that, if I hadn’t known first-hand what he was feeling, and what that shake in his voice really meant. Or, I _guess_ I knew what he felt. It was probably all the same, the confusion and the shame.

An awkward silence fell on us and my smile faltered, and Louis stared back at me stone-faced for a good five minutes before he got up, looking like he definitely regretted what he’d just said. He didn’t seem scared of me anymore, but rather seemed preoccupied with swearing under his breath. And he likely figured that if I hadn’t done anything to him yet, I wouldn’t anytime soon. He left my apartment without another word to me. I didn’t say anything either. I just watched him leave and slam the door behind him.

I got up and took the boy’s barely touched glass to the sink and didn’t let my thoughts linger on the English boy’s issues when they weren’t even my business, and I tried to convince myself that I didn’t care. I felt like I’d crossed a line with him, and that I shouldn’t have interrogated him like I had. But another part of me sensed that maybe he’d been at the point of telling someone one way or another. It had just been a matter of time and a matter of who pushed him to talk about it. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t happy it’d been me and someone else who might’ve reacted much more poorly. I set the glass down and went to the phone to ring up Ryan. The phone was answered on the sixth ring.

“Yeah?” came Ryan’s always so charming greeting. He sounded unbelievably tired – probably pissed that someone was calling him earlier than eleven o’clock, on top of being hung-over and possibly going through withdrawal. A shutter ran through me at the sound of his roughened voice.

“It’s Brendon,” I said as I thought through how to word what I wanted to say. Pete’s paranoia may have started to rub off on me, but you can never be too careful, and you never knew who was listening when it came to something as untrustworthy as the telephone. I rolled my eyes at myself.

“Pete’s got a meeting on Friday –” if it was going to be 1AM Saturday, I’d need him here before then, “—and he wanted me to ask you if you could babysit Bronx for him.”

There was a brief silence over the line, as if Ryan needed to look over his nonexistent schedule. Yeah, right. I could almost hear his annoying smirk.

“Yeah, sure, what time?”

“Seven,” I said, and I wouldn’t have told him so early, but I’d rather have had him there and accounted for so I wouldn’t be chasing him down later. And maybe I could tell him about my interesting morning with Louis during our down-time, “but can you stop over here beforehand? I have something for you.”

“A present for me? Aw, shucks, Bren, you shouldn’t have.”

I laughed humorlessly and hung up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> of course I had to incorporate one direction into my 30s gangster fic where people die and do illegal things


End file.
